Oddments and Outliers
by greenschist
Summary: A collection of drabbles and ficlets (less than 1000 words) featuring various Harry Potter characters and pairings. Ratings and content vary. #12 Lucius has been married too long to make such a foolish mistake...but he does it anyway. Lucius/Narcissa; #13 Hermione's never been afraid of the press. H/Hr
1. Remade: RegulusRegulus

Disclaimer: JKR's, not mine.

Written for the Fanfic Dominoes Game at HPFC. Pairing: Regulus/Regulus.

* * *

Lucius and Bella were right, he thought, to insist that the Marking was more than just an initiation. It was a rebirth. Regulus certainly felt remade, and he loved it.

He struck a series of dramatic poses in front of his bedroom mirror, first with the mask, then without. The mask was intimidating, yes, and he smirked imagining how frightened some idiot Muggle would be to see his skeletal visage under the dark hood, but he preferred to see his own face. He looked dark, he decided. Dangerous. _Sexy._ He gave the mirror his best smoldering look, the one copied from Sirius, all pouty lips and heavy-lidded eyes, and he thought he was handsomer than Sirius would ever be.

The Mark was raw and ached every time he moved his arm, but Regulus knew it would soon heal, and he would then feel his Master's call through his flesh. He was so close to having everything he wanted. He would take his rightful place in the world, restoring glory to his family name. Staring at the new, improved Regulus in the mirror, he thought: _I'm becoming just who I always dreamed I would be. And I can't wait for what comes next._

Unable to help himself, he laughed out loud and gave his reflection a wink.


	2. Like Matchmaking: NevilleDean

Title: Like Matchmaking

Pairing: Neville/Dean

wc: 851

* * *

Dean smiled tightly at the anxious blonde mite who could barely see over the counter. _Seventeen wands,_ he thought. _Seventeen, and all this kid has managed to do is knock another fifty off the shelves, crack the window so the O in_ Ollivander's _became a Q, and set fire to the till._

"Well, I think we're getting closer," he lied to the girl and her weary mother. "Next one, maybe."

"What if I never find one?" the child asked, almost in tears.

"Don't worry. 'The wand chooses the wizard.' That means the right one will find you," he promised. "That's what we do here at Ollivander's, you know. We find that perfect match." It was almost like reciting a script by now.

Although Dean valued being the first Muggle born and only non-family member ever to be taken on as an apprentice at Ollivander's, and though wandcraft _was_ fascinating, he often complained to Neville that he felt more like a matchmaker than a wandmaker, pairing wands with eleven-year-olds all summer long. Neville would just laugh, kiss away his bad mood, and say he liked knowing he could find his perfect match behind the counter at Ollivander's.

Dean cleared his boyfriend from his thoughts and concentrated on the wand boxes still on the shelves. He let his hands hover over the boxes, occasionally rubbing his fingertips together and hoping for that subtle quiver that signaled a wand sensed its mistress was nearby. Odd, he mused, how some wands fairly leaped off the shelves to get to their witch or wizard while others almost had to be coaxed out of hiding.

It really was like matchmaking, considering some people found also love so easily and others spent their whole lives searching.

Neville's face rose in his mind again, and he felt himself smile as his fingertips graced the edge of the boxes. He had been blessed, he knew, when it came to making matches in his own life.

Just when he was about to give up and try a different shelf, he felt a faint vibration from a dusty wand box.

"Let's try this one," he said as he pulled the box out. Turning and placing it on the counter, he pulled off the lid and examined the wand within. "Twelve inches, alder wood, with a unicorn hair core." He lifted the wand from its cotton batting and balanced it on his palm. "Hmm. Slightly inflexible. Good for dueling and defense."

The mother's lips quirked and Dean considered that a good sign. Most mothers knew their children well enough to guess which wand would suit them from description alone.

There was a commotion outside, mostly excited voices and some laughter, but Dean ignored it and placed the wand in his small customer's sweaty hands.

"Okay, then," he said as encouragingly as he could while bracing for an explosion. "Give it a—" He broke off when he heard a familiar name shouted outside.

"—Neville Longbottom?"

"It _is!_ It _is_ him! The war hero!"

"What on earth is he _doing?_ "

Dean held up one hand toward his customers and ran around the counter. "Excuse me," he muttered, distracted by the noise of a swelling crowd. From the window, it looked like Ollivander's was being surrounded. "I'll just be a mo—" He pulled open the door and his voice trailed off in shock.

Neville was in full shining armor and mounted on a white horse in front of Ollivander's Fine Wands.

He grinned down at Dean. "Hi."

"Neville?" he asked, voice quivering. He moved a few steps out into the Alley, a bit closer to the horse. "What's going on?"

"I came to Ollivander's for my perfect match," he said simply. A rustle swept through the crowd, and Dean heard a gasp from the customers now standing in the doorway watching.

Feeling as if his insides were melting like butter, he grasped the horse's reins and looked up at Neville. "Well, that's what we do here," he rasped.

"So, I've been told." Neville's smile broadened. "Dean, I love you. I want to be with you forever. If you let me, I'll spend all my days making your life magical. Will you marry me?"

Speechless, he nodded, and the crowd around them burst into applause. He moved alongside the horse and raised his face for a kiss, but Neville just sat there, smiling.

"I can't bend in this suit," he half-yelled over the crowd.

Dean started laughing, "Then why…?"

"I was trying to be romantic," he answered with slight shrug. "I just wanted it to be perfect."

Dean took a breath to reply, but then he, the horse, and half the crowd jolted when a large bang issued from the shop's doorway. A shower of red rose petals began to fall over Neville and Dean.

"It likes me! It likes me!" the little girl squealed, jumping up and down as the alder wand continued to spew petals.

Dean kissed his own fingertips before reaching up and pressing them against Neville's, transferring the kiss and receiving one in return. "It is. Everything is just perfect."

* * *

Written for:

-96-hour Slash & Femmeslash Challenge

-Multi-Ship Challenge _(horse)_

-Getting Around Challenge

-Prompt Relay Challenge, Section 1 _(butter)_


	3. The Best is Yet to Be: Snupin

Title: The Best is Yet to Be

Pairing: Remus/Severus, mention of Teddy/Lucy

wc: 508

* * *

After terminating the Floo connection, Remus climbed slowly to his feet. He grunted as he straightened, feeling pains in his back and knees. _Talking by Floo certainly becomes more difficult as one grows older_ , he thought, _and after that conversation, I feel damn old._

He turned toward the stove, wanting more tea, and spotted Severus lounging in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest. "You heard?" Remus asked.

"I did, indeed." Severus straightened and crossed the kitchen. "Congratulations, 'Granddad.'"

Remus ran a hand through his thin, grey hair and shook his head. "I'm going to be a grandfather. I can't believe it."

Severus snorted, and lowered himself into his place at their small kitchen table. "I don't see what's so hard to believe. The only remarkable thing about this is that they managed to effectively use contraception as long as they did." He laid the _Prophet_ 's crossword puzzle in front of him and shuffled through the odds and ends on the table. "Where the devil are my glasses?"

"On your head." He smiled at Severus's grumpy noises and brought the kettle and two cups to the table. "I'm just saying they're so young."

Severus didn't look up from his puzzle. "They _are_ young. And stupid."

Remus poured the tea and ignored the comment. He knew Severus loved Teddy, but not even love could curb Severus's tongue. "I mean, Lucy's barely 18. They should be enjoying their youth, not raising the next generation."

Severus looked up at that, and it made Remus smile to see him peering over the rims of his glasses. They were a new prescription, and Severus was self-conscious about wearing them, but Remus thought he looked cute.

"We were fighting a war at that age, Remus. I daresay they'll survive parenthood," he said shortly. "You just don't feel ready to be anyone's grandfather."

Remus chuckled. "That's true, I guess." He sat sipping his tea and watching Severus work on his crossword for a while. "Time is just moving so fast," he murmured, "and we're both growing old."

Severus put down his quill and reached across the table. His hand had lines that weren't there a few years ago, and he sometimes complained about a touch of arthritis in his smallest finger, but Remus could still feel the strength of it as it clasped his.

"And who would have thought you and I would have the chance to grow old?" Severus's voice was soft. "We've raised your son together, and now we get to see his child born." Remus felt him give his hand a squeeze. "We've faced worse, you know." He let go and reached for his quill again. "So, stop complaining…Granddad."

Remus smiled and leaned across the table to give Severus a soft kiss. He let his forehead rest against his for a moment. "Thanks," he whispered, and gave him another kiss before settling back in his seat.

He picked up his cup and took a sip to clear his throat. "When the new baby comes, can he call you 'Grampy Sev?'"

"Absolutely not."

* * *

Written for:

Prompt Relay Challenge, Section 1 (grandfather)

96-hour Slash and Femmeslash challenge


	4. We'll Always Have Book Club: Fleurmione

Title: We'll Always Have Book Club

Pairing: Fleur/Hermione, references to Bill/Fleur and Ron/Hermione.

Warning: adultery

wc: 807

* * *

Fleur lay with her cheek pressed against the warm, soft skin of Hermione's lower back and watched the curtains move in tandem with the idle breeze that drifted through the window. She felt Hermione sigh.

"This is the last day of quidditch season."

"I know." She stroked the back of Hermione's thigh.

"Ron suggested we take the kids to the seashore next Saturday. Have a little 'family time.' I said that would be nice."

Fleur exhaled and felt Hermione shiver as her breath caressed her back. She climbed up her body until she could rest her head on the same pillow and smoothed back the frizzy curls that had fallen across Hermione's cheek.

"And I said 'of course' when Bill asked me if we were stopping our 'little book club' now." She smiled, knowing it didn't reach her eyes. "Zat was ze deal, was it not? Our 'usbands and children watch quidditch at your 'ouse, and we meet to discuss books 'ere. No quidditch, no book club."

"I know." Hermione shifted from her stomach onto her side and snuggled closer, slipping her arm around Fleur. "I can't believe we started this. I can't believe we have to stop." Her lips quirked. "And I _really_ can't believe Ron hasn't noticed I've been carrying the same book around for 18 weeks. I mean, I read it in a day!"

They both giggled, and Fleur said, "At least you read it! I 'ave been terrified Bill will ask what it is about; after all zis time, I should 'ave somet'ing more to say zan 'Well, ze cover is pretty.'"

Hermione laughed harder, and Fleur held her close. She loved laying her with her this way, skin-to-skin. Hermione was so smooth and soft, all tender and warm. Despite knowing she had no right, Fleur could feel herself growing jealous of the time Hermione spent with Ron. The sight of her hair spread across the pillow, the heavy weight of her breasts, the soft, needy sound that escaped her throat when her lover parted her legs, the tender dimples behind her knees…Fleur had to share them all with Ron.

Just as Hermione had to share her with Bill.

Hermione sobered and settled against her again. Fleur felt her play with the ends of her hair, sometimes winding it through her fingers, sometimes bringing it up to brush against her cheek. Fleur just held her and watched the shaft of sunlight from the window slowly move across the room.

They were almost out of time.

Hermione brushed her lips against Fleur's throat and sat up, leaning against the headboard. The sheet had long-since been kicked to the floor, and she was unselfconscious about her body. That had surprised and delighted Fleur, and she felt a wave of misery at the thought of how long it would be until she could see Hermione like this again.

Hermione cupped her cheek. "I can tell you what our book is about," she said, going back to their earlier discussion. "Just in case Bill asks."

Mute, she nodded and covered Hermione's hand with her own, holding it to her face.

"It's about a married woman who has an affair and finds fulfillment she didn't really know she was missing. But she also learns she still loves her husband more than she thought." Hermione's smile was sad, and her lips were swollen from Fleur's kisses.

Fleur sometimes wondered if Ron and Bill were blind. How did Ron miss those puffy, well-kissed lips? Did Bill not see the love marks on Fleur's breasts? Guilt curdled her stomach and she sat up, mirroring Hermione's position and causing her hand to fall away. Perhaps it was simply that Ron and Bill trusted them and never thought to look. "Does she leave 'er 'usband?" she asked, almost afraid. Could _they_ ever do such a thing?

Hermione folded her hands neatly in her lap. "It's left open-ended, actually. The author left it to the readers to draw their own conclusions." She looked down, and when Fleur followed her gaze, she saw the late-afternoon light from the window had reached the bed. The diamond on Hermione's finger glittered in the sun. "I think she stayed with him," she said softly, "at least for a while."

Fleur nodded, understanding.

They dressed side-by-side, and the silence was not uncomfortable. Hermione helped her make the bed, and they kissed again before she Apparated home, a kiss Fleur was pleased to see left her rosy cheeked and bright eyed. It hurt a bit to think of Hermione dropping a kiss onto Ron's waiting mouth, but soon Bill would return and she would do the same to him.

It was all right to leave things open-ended for now, Fleur thought, and on the first day of the next quidditch season, she would invite Hermione over for a new book.

* * *

Written for:

Fanfic Dominoes Game: _Hermione/Fleur_

Prompt Relay Challenge, Section 1: _day_


	5. Pursuit of Happiness: NevilleLuna

**Title:** Pursuit of Happiness

 **Pairing:** Neville/Luna

 **wc:** 500

* * *

"I'm ready to go, Neville."

He stopped raking and looked up. A crisp, autumn wind pinked Luna's cheeks and pulled wisps of blonde hair from her braid. Her eyes were bright and so was her smile. Neville could see her luggage in a pile on the front steps behind her, and he sighed. She was always so happy to leave.

He folded both hands over the top of the rake and rested his chin against them. "All packed, then?"

"I think so, but I may Floo you if I've forgotten anything." She shuffled closer until she was within touching distance, kicking up red and gold leaves like a child. She was slim and so pretty in her pink jumper and gurdyroot-patterned scarf that Neville bit off another sigh. There was no point.

"Um, you're off to Peru this time, right?" he asked.

"That's right. In search of the Three-tailed Confunding Jungle Fox." Luna's smile widened. "It will be summertime there soon. I'll think of you when I'm sunbathing." She wrapped her arms around him in a hug.

 _And I'll think of you all the time_ , he thought in misery, but all he did was pat her shoulder. "I guess Scamander is waiting for you?"

Luna nodded against his chest, and his rough, wool coat pulled more hair from her braid. "He arrived a few days ago and has our camp set up." Her head tipped back until she could beam up at him. "Four months of field research, here I come."

Neville smiled his best smile, as if the thought of Rolf Scamander waiting for Luna didn't make him want to put his fist through the nearest tree trunk. "Sounds like fun."

She laughed, just an echo of the dreamy girl she used to be. "You don't mean that, but thanks."

He swallowed, hard, and brushed a long, silky strand of hair from the corner of her mouth. "I mean it." If he was with Luna, Neville thought he would enjoy months of camping perfectly well.

Luna wiggled the rake meaningfully within his grasp. Neville raked the leaves without magic, just as he cut the grass and turned the soil for his plantings each year. Other wizards might rely on charms to get the jobs done, but Neville always said working with his hands brought him closer to the ground. Only Luna seemed to consider this logical. It helped make her an excellent roommate and was one reason why Neville fell in love with her.

"We shouldn't go against our natures, Neville." She was serious. "It's your nature to belong to your patch of earth just as it's my nature to leave and explore the unknown. You know every little bud and sprout that will bloom in your garden in the spring, and each one matters to you. That's something I love best about you."

He doesn't fool himself into thinking her love is anything but platonic, and sure enough, her next words are "You're my very dearest friend, Neville."

* * *

Originally posted on livejournal at 15pairings _(#12 "No escape from being alone")_ and dyno_drabbles _(unrequited love)._


	6. Stolen Kiss: RegulusRemus

Title: Stolen Kiss

Pairing: Regulus/Remus, hint of Sirius/Remus

wc: 584

* * *

It was one of those rare, perfect spring Sundays, warm enough to chase everyone outside regardless of their fast-approaching exams.

The Black Lake was still too cold for swimming, but that didn't stop students from flocking to the water's edge. Regulus knelt on the plaid blanket, hidden from the gang on the shore by the craggy coastline. He could hear people squealing as they dipped their feet in the icy water. His brother's voice, carried on the wind, threatened someone—maybe Pettigrew or Snape—with a dunking.

The Marauders had left Lupin behind, his Charms and DADA notes scattered in a ring around him, held in place by fist-sized rocks used as paperweights. Lupin half-reclined against a boulder, sleeping in the sun. Regulus could see his eyes moving behind his lids as he dreamed.

Regulus studied him, this boy he had watched Sirius stare at, trying to figure out the attraction the way he would a riddle. Lupin was not much, as far as Regulus can see. He was too skinny, for one, and looked almost sick. Regulus wondered briefly if Snape, with his lunar charts and innuendo, was on to something. He dismissed the thought. Not even Dumbledore would allow a werewolf to enroll at Hogwarts.

Lupin did have soft-looking light brown hair, delicate hands, and a face that would be handsome if not for the faint tracing of scratches, mostly healed, that crossed it and the deep blue circles under his eyes. His mouth twitched as he dreamed, curling into a half-smile before pursing slightly. Regulus studied those lips. They were pale and nicely shaped, with a full lower lip and a thinner, finely arched, upper one. He wondered if Sirius had kissed him yet. Regulus moved closer, and Lupin's breath, smelling faintly of pumpkin juice from breakfast, kissed his face.

He would bet Sirius had kissed him. They probably kissed all the time.

Regulus straightened and looked around, not wanting to be caught. The Marauders picked this place well. The rocks gave the illusion of privacy, yet it was close enough to the water to conveniently skive off studying. It was probably a perfect compromise spot between irresponsible Sirius and the more studious Lupin. Regulus braced hands against the boulder on either side of Lupin's head and closed the distance between them. For a moment, he just breathed against the older boy's mouth, but at some slight movement on Lupin's part—lips parting, head tilting back just a bit—he tentatively pressed his mouth against the sleeping boy's.

Lupin's lips were cool and soft. At first, the kiss was little more than the motionless press of Regulus's lips against Remus's. He tasted pumpkin juice and something that must be purely Remus because he had never tasted anything like it before, and he deepened the kiss with great care. Heart pounding, he traced the sharp edges of Lupin's teeth and touched his quiescent tongue. Lupin still didn't move, and Regulus felt like he could kiss him forever.

Lupin's sudden twitchy movement, his hand coming up to rest on Regulus's back, coincided with a shout of laughter from the lake, and the two terrified Regulus into pulling back. His eyes still shut, Lupin sighed and shifted his position, muttering "Sirius, not now. OWLs."

Regulus slowly and carefully backed off the blanket and turned back toward the castle, breaking into a run as soon as he was sure he was far enough away not to be heard. _Yeah_ , he thought. _Sirius definitely kisses him._

* * *

Written for:

Fanfic Dominoes Game: _Regulus/Remus_

Prompt Relay Challenge, section 1: _riddle_


	7. In the Healing Dark FredII&Lucy

**Title** : In the Healing Dark

 **Characters** : Fred II, Lucy (no pairing)

 **wc:** 250

* * *

"Fred?" Lucy leaned out the window and called her cousin's name into the night.

"Yeah."

She crawled past the faded orange curtains. All the cousins knew the best way onto the Burrow's roof was through Uncle Ron's old bedroom. Until their grandmother caught them, they would continue to use the roof as their secret meeting spot.

The shingles were gritty under Lucy's feet as she climbed carefully toward Fred's perch between two chimneys. He shifted to make room, and they gazed at the stars together.

Lucy broke the silence first. "I thought it was a funny prank."

"Well, you're the only one who did." Fred slouched until he lay against the steeply pitched roof.

"Maybe it's hard to laugh when you're turning blue."

"Or maybe I'm not funny like my dad is. Or like Uncle Fred was." In the starlight, Lucy could see him scowling.

"Who says you have to be like Uncle Fred or your dad?" She inched down until they were side by side again, primly pulling her nightgown over her knees. "Anyway, my dad hardly ever talks about Uncle Fred being funny, but he does say he was brave and good. You're brave and good, too, aren't you?"

She rested her head on Fred's shoulder.

"I bet Uncle Fred would've laughed to see Aunt Hermione colored like a blueberry." And under her cheek, she felt Fred relax.

As a falling star streaked across the heavens, Lucy couldn't help but believe their uncle was grinning down at them.

* * *

Originally posted at nextgen_drabble _(Lucy, Fred II, stars)_ and 100quills _(heaven)_.


	8. Death's Next Claim: HermioneLilyI

Title: Death's Next Claim

Pairing: Hermione/Lily(I)

Warning: TrulyMad!Hermione, hint of necrophilia. This was very strange to write.

wc: 590

* * *

"Let me go."

"I can't." Hermione clutches the broken ring she wears on a cord around her neck and stares hard into the bright light pouring through the window. "I need you here."

She doesn't like it when Lily stands next to the window. The way the light punches through her, making her almost transparent like she isn't even _there_ , fills Hermione with dread.

She doesn't like any reminders that, as a shade, Lily casts no shadow.

"I don't belong here," Lily whispers. "You never should have found the Resurrection Stone."

"I don't want to talk about this again!" Hermione can hear how shrill her own voice is, and she can see how her hands shake when she pulls the curtain cord and blocks out the light. She even notes, with analytical detachment, how the bones of her arms look like they are cutting through her flesh.

She doesn't remember the last time she ate. Lily doesn't eat, and Hermione doesn't like to do anything without her.

She strives for calm. "If I hadn't found the Stone in the Forest, we could never be together." She feels her lips stretch into a tremulous smile as she faces the long-dead woman. "I couldn't bear that."

Lily frowns and turns her face away. Hermione hates that, hates that she doesn't have the power to clasp her by the chin and turn her head until those lovely green eyes look into hers. She had tried, back when Lily first began turning away from her, but her hands passed right through Lily's form, and the whole thing upset Hermione so much that she cried.

"When you brought me back, you said you just needed someone to talk to." Lily's voice is low but firm. "Someone like you: Muggle-born, who fought Voldemort, who knew how horrible it could be."

"But then I fell in love with you," Hermione cries. "When I met you, I couldn't help but love you. And you love me, too," she begs. "Say you love me, too."

"We can't love, Hermione." Lily turns to her then, and Hermione sees nothing but pity in those eyes. "I'm dead, and you're sick."

Hermione shakes her head slowly, rubbing her temples to ease her ever-present headache.

"You are," Lily's shade insists. "Harry and all your friends are so worried about you."

Hermione remembers them coming to the door again, this morning or maybe yesterday—it's all so hard to remember—and pounding to be let in, but her wards are still holding. She can't let anyone in, and she can't go out. If she does, they'll take Lily away from her.

They stay here where they're safe, where they can be together.

"No more," she mumbles. "I don't want to talk about this anymore." She's so weak and the room is spinning in slow circles around her head, so she staggers to her bed and lies down atop the wrinkled sheets. "Come sit with me," she implores, wanting Lily to sit on the edge of the bed and sing to her like she did in the beginning.

She opens her eyes, her lids like lead weights, but Lily is still by the window. She has moved so the few determined rays that creep in around the edges of the curtains shine through her body and illuminate the dusty bookshelves behind her.

"I want to go back," Lily whispers. "Let me go."

"I can't. Not yet. If you go, I'll have to follow."

Hermione closes her eyes so she won't have to see any more.

* * *

Written for:

Fanfic Dominoes Game – _Hermione/Lily(I)_

Mega Song Lyric Challenge - _#76 "You and me, I can feel us dying. Are we?" - No Doubt, Don't Speak_


	9. Pretty: ScoRose

Title: Pretty

Pairing: Scorpius/Rose

wc: 644

* * *

"Scorpius?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you—never mind. It's not important." Rose bit her lip and looked out over the lake.

"What is it?" Scorpius put down his book and looked across the tartan picnic blanket to where his best friend had been fidgeting and ripping her quill to shreds all morning. Rose's eyes were slightly red-rimmed, and her usually smiling mouth was pinched and sad, but it was still a great improvement over the state she had been in after last night's Unity Ball. "Please don't tell me you're pining for Timothy Corner because, if you do, I might be sick."

"I'm not pining for him." Her lips twisted in disgust. " _Please_. He ditched me for another girl in the middle of the ball. I won't waste another second of my life on him."

Satisfied, Scorpius leaned back against the tree, fingers laced behind his head. "Just so. I told you not to go with him. He's an arse."

"He was certainly nice enough to Adria Zabini at the ball." She examined her fingernails with sudden interest.

"All right, so he's an arse with no taste. And, again, this sounds suspiciously like pining."

"I'm _not_ ," Rose insisted. "It's just..." she took a deep breath and looked him straight in the eye. "Do you think I'm pretty?"

Speechless, he sat up and stared at her, watching the wind blow shining strands of her hair across her face until they caught on her pink lips, seeing her large, dark eyes, coppery freckles, and soft, smooth skin. _Did he think she was pretty? Did the sun rise in the east? Do nifflers dig for gold?_ "You-" his voice sounded deeper to his own ears than normal. "You're cute, Rose."

"Cute?" The happy smile Scorpius had expected was nowhere to be found. "I'm _cute?"_ The remains of her quill snapped in her hands. "Cute is for baby ducks and kittens! I don't want to be cute, just as I don't want to be a dull-as-dirt swot or yet another ginger-haired Weasley. The Adria Zabinis of the world aren't _cute_ , and no one's ditching them in mid-date. I want to be exotic and mysterious!"

Scorpius caught one of her hands in his. "Like it or not, you're as cute as a cat or duck of any age could be. Just accept it." She scowled and tried to pull away. "You're exotic, too. To me, anyway." With his free hand, he reached up and ran his fingers through her long red hair, feeling her go very still at his touch. "And the workings of your mind are a mystery to me," he concluded. "I don't understand why you envy 'the Adria Zabinis of the world.'" He continued playing with the ends of her hair, not meeting her eyes. "I especially don't understand why you accepted Corner's invitation to the ball before I had the chance to ask you."

Bemused, Rose took his hand from her hair and held it in her lap. "You seemed so disinterested, I didn't think you were going to ask me."

He shrugged. "I wasn't sure what to say." She scoffed and he insisted, "Seriously, asking a girl out is not that easy, especially when she's your best friend."

She shook her head in disapproval, but her eyes were shining. "We're the two best in our year. Stringing a few simple words together should be within your reach." She shifted until she was perched on her knees in front of him, both his hands still in hers. "Repeat after me: Rose, would you like to go out with me? Feel free to embellish with your own words," she added when he laughed.

"Okay." He got up on his knees, mirroring her position. "Pretty Rosie, would you go with me to Hogsmeade this weekend?"

"Yes," and she threw her arms around his neck and held on tight.

* * *

Written as a birthday gift for a friend. Prompts: enigma, hurt, pure fluff.


	10. Anniversary: Aberforth&Albus

Title: The Anniversary

Characters: Aberforth, Albus (no pairing)

wc: 100

* * *

"You've a ways to go if you're to catch up," Aberforth rasped. He kept his eyes on Ariana's portrait as Fawkes preceded his master into the room. Albus set his own bottle and glass on the table.

They drank steadily, wordlessly. On this day, their communication was often limited to the clink of glasses and heavy silences.

"It's wrong," he said suddenly, facing Albus for the first time. "Here we are two drunk old men. That bastard is drawing breath in Nurmengard. But there's nothing left of her."

Eyes closed, Albus bowed his head while Fawkes lowed a mournful note.

* * *

Originally posted at HP100 for the prompt _drunk._


	11. Tender Loving Care: RemusFleur

Title: Tender Loving Care

Pairing: Fleur/Remus

wc: 600

* * *

His senses woke up one by one.

 _The distant roar of the surf._

 _A shredded blue afghan under his cheek, one long silver-blond hair tangled in with the soft yarn._

 _The rattle of the stovetop and the patter of her feet on the floorboards above._

 _The scent of warm bread._

Remus groaned and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands, chasing away the last of the full moon. Overhead, he heard Fleur pause and then rapidly cross toward the warded trap door that kept them both safe every month.

His bones ached and his muscles throbbed, but he stifled another moan and used the rough stone wall to push himself up onto his knees.

He didn't want Fleur to find him facedown and shaking on the floor again. She worried about him enough.

The trap door cracked open and filled the cellar with morning light.

"Remus?"

He cleared his throat. "I'm okay." He scrubbed his face with his hands and tried to arrange his features into a smile before she could see him.

The cellar was little more than a glorified crawl space and not tall enough to stand up in. Remus watched, as he did every month, as Fleur climbed down to him, revealed inch by beautiful inch. First, her small feet and slender legs entered the trap door, then her long silvery hair that fell almost to the floor as she bent down enough to see him. Finally, he could see her large blue eyes and her impossibly beautiful face.

Her smile was genuine, as if she were truly happy to see a broken down werewolf first thing in the morning.

Tonks used to smile at him like that, too. Fleur had probably looked at Bill the same way.

He kept his smile in place. It didn't do to dwell on what they had both lost.

Instead, he watched Fleur glide over on her knees until she was beside him. He knew it was her Veela blood that made her so graceful, but Fleur-in-motion was still a delight to behold.

"''Ow was last night?" she asked in her musically accented English. She touched his cheek with gentle fingers, and he felt the sting where he must have scratched himself. "Are you in much pain?"

"Not too bad." He leaned into her touch, and her smile widened. Her hair brushed against him as she kissed his forehead, and he closed his eyes to better savor the contact.

She sighed and pulled back. Her graceful, long-fingered hands stroked his hair back from his face as she studied him. "I am not certain I believe you."

Remus kissed her wrist. "I'm fine. I'm just tired." His stomach growled. "And hungry."

"Zan I will feed you." He liked how her eyes crinkled at the corners when she smiled. She tugged at his arm, and he crawled with her to the trap door.

He listened, making appreciative noises, as she promised eggs, toast, and sausage while helping him out of the cellar and to his feet.

Their friends might not understand their relationship—calling it everything from loneliness to looking for replacements—but Remus knew it was love. Sometimes love was just a hot breakfast waiting for you at the end of a hellish night. It was careful hands on scratched skin. It was calm, accepting blue eyes and a welcoming smile.

He interrupted her by pulling her close and kissing her. "Thank you for taking care of me."

She laid her head against his chest and wrapped her arms around him. "We are taking care of each other," she said.

* * *

Written for the Fanfic Dominoes Game: _Remus/Fleur_


	12. In Retrospect: LuciusNarcissa

Lucius/Narcissa, 1980. The prompt was "retrospect."

* * *

"You are not fat; you're pregnant."

"Fat? You? No, absolutely not."

"You have never been more beautiful than you are now."

"You're gorgeous, ravishing, a goddess among women. The knowledge that you're carrying my child drives me insane with lust. I am the luckiest man on earth."

Lucius could see now that any one of these responses would have been preferable to "Yes, you are looking rather fat. That will all come off after the baby is born, right?"

He tries the locked bedroom door one last time before trudging toward the guest room with his pillow under his arm.


	13. Blame the Nargles: HHr

Harry/Hermione, post-Harry/Ginny. Prompt: "The Snorkack did _what?_ "

* * *

Hermione almost choked on her tea. "The Snorkack did _what?_ "

On the floor in front of the sofa, Harry wadded _The Quibbler_ into a ball and chucked it into the fire. "Broke up me and Ginny, apparently."

Hermione tucked a bookmark between the pages and shut her book. "My goodness." She kept her tone light. "Who knew the Snorkack had such power?"

"Yeah, who knew?" Harry tipped his head back against her leg until he could see her eyes. "Did you know I've been mentioned in every issue of _The Prophet, The Quibbler,_ and _Witch Weekly_ since the end of the war? Ginny didn't like always having our relationship under such public scrutiny. She said it got old."

Hermione could read the anxiety in his eyes and gently touched his cheek. "I'm not Ginny, am I? And you know I've never been afraid of the press."

He smiled. "No, you never were." Turning, he climbed to his knees and gave her a soft kiss. "What do you think _The Quibbler_ will say about you and me and how we got together?"

"Oh, I bet you a Galleon they blame the Nargles."


End file.
